“You are late, my lady,” the gatekeeper said, disapproval in his tone, arms folded across his chest. “Your father expected you at first light.”
“We have just found my lord Denis on the road, where the forest closes over it. I fear he is dead.”
Gasps echoed amongst the company, followed by whispers that grew in volume. Two squires fled toward the tower, undoubtedly to take the news to Isabella’s father.
“And you left him?” The gatekeeper’s view of her choice was clear. He was impertinent, which was not unusual. What was novel was that Isabella was embarrassed by his manner. She waskeenly aware of it, likely because Amaury’s squires both looked appalled.
Isabella sat taller in her saddle. “Amaury de Montvieux bade me ride on to safety. He vowed to bring Denis.”
There was a pause, as if all in the bailey had caught their breath, as if they knew naught of Amaury’s return.
“Where is Edmund?” she asked, for he should have shared the tidings.
“He confers with your father, as is right and proper. Your father was displeased when Lord Denis was compelled to return without his steed last evening, stolen as it was by those fiends at Montvieux. Did you see it there?”
“The horse returns with our company,” Isabella said.
The gatekeeper sniffed. “When you did not arrive this morning, as expected, Lord Denis rode out in search of his lost destrier. Little did we expect you, the daughter of the house, to return with both the villains and the horse. What strange company you keep, my lady.”
It seemed clear that the gatekeeper did not know of her nuptials, which Isabella could not explain as both Denis and Edmund had returned the night before. All the same, she did not believe she should be required to explain herself to a guard – particularly since she had been following her own father’s edict, as delivered by Denis.
“And who are these?” the gatekeeper demanded.
“They are two of the squires of Amaury de Montvieux who escorted me to safety. You will ensure that their courtesy is returned and that they are greeted as guests of the house.”
The gatekeeper’s scoff was just audible enough to make Isabella’s ears burn. “They are fortunate indeed that we have not cut them down, just for daring to cross the threshold,” he said. “Those of Montvieux are ourenemies, my lady.”
She turned a cold stare on the gatekeeper. “Amaury de Montvieux is my lord husband, by my father’s decree,” she said, seeing that man’s shock.
There was silence in the bailey then, a silence that echoed with disapproval. Isabella wondered if she would be cast out the gates for being wed to the son of Montvieux.
Certainly, no one stepped forward to tend Caprice.
The lack of courtesy was startling. That no soul here knew that her father’s will had been done was inexplicable. That none acknowledged that she had fulfilled her father’s edict was confounding. Isabella did not know what to do or say.
Then Amaury’s squires dismounted and bowed to her, one after the other. Philip took Caprice’s reins. “I should be honored to see to your steed’s care, my lady, if you will entrust her to me.”
“Thank you, Philip. I must confer with my father.”
“Of course, my lady. You may call upon Fraser and I for any matter, at any time.”
Gratitude flooded through Isabella. “Thank you both.”
It was curious that her new husband’s squire was the one person in her home who had a care for her. She dismounted, stroking Caprice’s nose before surrendering the creature to Philip’s care. She watched as the mare followed the boy meekly, hearing how Philip spoke to the horse. The other boy led the two palfreys, following Philip to the stables.
The portcullis, she noted, was closed again. Though she strained her ears, she could not hear the sound of any party approaching. Isabella bowed her head and prayed that Denis’ attackers would not threaten Amaury, then continued to her father’s chambers.
That man was hale enough. She could hear him berating someone, perhaps Edmund.
She guessed that she would be next.
Some details did not change.
Where was Sebastian?
Amaury would have given a great deal to know. He knelt beside Denis, unable to evade the truth that Isabella’s brother had been surprised by his assailant. The dead man’s eyes were wide with dismay and perhaps astonishment. Blood pooled beneath his corpse, gleaming wetly on the road. Amaury did not have to part the other man’s garments to know that he had been sliced from gullet to groin, a blow of uncommon savagery. He had never expected to see the like of such an injury again, not now that he was home.
Thierry was beating the bushes around the fallen man, riding a circle in the forest to ensure that the attackers had not lingered. He returned to Amaury and dismounted, shaking his head that he had found naught, then studied the fallen man.
